


Aboard the Orient Express

by Meiri



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1486588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meiri/pseuds/Meiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A couple of chance encounters lead to something Hermione never could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aboard the Orient Express

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightfalltwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfalltwen/gifts).



> This tale was written as a pinch hit for the 2011 round of the hermione_smut exchange on LJ. My recipient was nightfalltwen.
> 
> Disclaimer: *The characters and the universe they live in belong to JKR, not to me.*

Aboard the  _Orient Express_

  
Sighing, Hermione stretched, feeling her muscles relax from their cramped, hunched position. Pushing her chair back from the table where her presentation notes were sorted into neat piles, she stood and began to pace. No matter how hard she tried, she just could not focus. Her gaze kept flitting from her note cards to the ornate wood panelling and luxurious furnishings in her train.

  
One could easily believe that she was distracted by the fact that she was travelling aboard the historic  _Orient Express_ . One could surmise that she was taking in the beauty of the scenery, visible through the window, or perhaps daydreaming about all of the interesting and famous people who had made this same journey over the past one hundred and twenty-five years.

  
However, the true reason behind Hermione's distraction was the presence of Draco Malfoy, her former childhood enemy and current bothersome enigma. Until recently, Malfoy had been barely a footnote in her eventful youth; she hadn't seen him much since they finished school, after the war ended. Their paths just didn't often cross, despite his post-war philanthropic efforts and her career in the Department of International Relations at the Ministry of Magic.

  
Or, more precisely, that had been true until a few weeks ago when they'd been seated at the same table during a rather boring Ministry dinner. After the main meal, during dessert, everyone started changing places at the tables, mingling with acquaintances. As Hermione cast her gaze about the small hall, looking for someone - anyone! - to talk to, the handsome prat just had to make a witty observation that led to one of the most engaging conversations in which she'd partaken, at least at a Ministry event. In fact, the topics were so interesting that they left the function before the dessert dishes were even cleared, and they ended up having coffee in a small Muggle shop near the Ministry.

  
It was surreal to discover that they had common interests, given the animosity of their childhood. Ten years, it seemed, gave them enough distance from their pasts to grant each a new perspective. By the end of the evening as he escorted her home, Hermione had been quite ready to consider Draco Malfoy a friendly acquaintance, rather than her former enemy. And then the prat had to go and ruin it.

  
Heat suffused Hermione's body, remembering the way his eyes had dragged over her figure. The pretty periwinkle cocktail dress she'd chosen that night had suddenly felt entirely too form-fitting, and she'd begun to wish she'd worn a more concealing set of dress robes instead.  All thoughts of second guessing her wardrobe decisions flew out of her head when he leaned reached up to brush a lock of hair from her eyes.  She swore she heard him murmur the word lovely just before he leaned in and stole a soft, fiery kiss.

  
It really hadn't been fair of him. A few short hours of conversation could never have prepared her for even the vaguest possibility that there could be any sort of attraction between them. And did he really have to be so good at kissing? He was already witty and charming. It was entirely too much to take.

  
And then it was over almost as soon as it truly began. Draco pulled away, looking as bemused as she felt, and Disapparated after saying a quiet goodbye. Hands shaking, she'd unlocked the door to her flat, slipped inside, and closed the door on her confusion. She'd felt off-kilter and out of sorts ever since, haunted by a pair of knowing grey eyes and a playfully wicked smirk.

  
With a frustrated sigh, Hermione gave up on putting the finishing touches on her presentation, and she began to get ready for the formal dinner which would be served in the dining car.

  
~*~*~

  
Hermione tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she made her way along the sleeper car's narrow corridor. Dinner had been lovely, though her dining companions hadn't been the most talkative people. Shaking her head, she was contemplating how much effort it would take to be so completely closed off to people when she heard a faint click, signalling the opening of a cabin door. Glancing up, she stopped dead in her tracks. A tall blond man exited his cabin and secured his door. Shaking her head, Hermione dismissed his resemblance to Malfoy as merely a coincidence and started on her way again, while mentally cursing her rotten luck. Who knew how many times she'd be faced with such a vivid reminder of that kiss.

  
At the sound of her footsteps, the man looked up. "Granger? What are you doing here?"

  
"Oh, it is you, Malfoy," she replied, looking at him and trying to figure out if she confused him even half as much as he confused her, only to find his features placid and nearly unreadable. "I'm travelling to Instanbul."

  
"For the conference on Public Policy in the Wizarding World?" he asked, politely interested.

  
"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "Normally, I'd have taken an International Portkey, but the train ticket was a gift from friends. And you?"

  
"I have a meeting in Bucharest," he said.

  
"I see.  But why the train?"

  
Draco leaned against the cabin door. "I like trains, always have. And this one not only has a reputation for luxury, but also has a prestigious history."

  
Nodding, she made to pass him, but he cleared his throat. She stopped walking and looked up into his eyes.

  
"Pardon me, Malfoy. I am just off to my cabin." Shifting on her feet, Hermione found that she could not look away from the intensity of his eyes.

  
"Won't you join me for a night cap, Granger?" he asked, pausing to allow his eyes to drop to her mouth before finding her wide brown eyes again. "It's early yet."

  
"I don't know if I should. I've a presentation to give shortly after arriving in Instanbul that I'm not nearly well enough prepared to deliver," she replied, holding back a wistful sigh, "else I just might." As badly as he'd confused her over the past couple of weeks, she found him charming, and she was curious about the man he'd become since the boy she once knew was hardly evident in his manner now.

  
"I promise not to keep you too long. Although," he flashed her a grin, "if you're half as dedicated to your work now as you were to your studies, you're likely better prepared than any of the other presenters at the conference will be."

  
"Oh thanks," she said, surprised at the compliment. "You know, an evening off might be just the thing." She waited while he opened his cabin door then walked in ahead of him, not noticing his hungry gaze or cunning smile.

  
"Working hard is admirable, but the law of diminishing returns discourages working too hard for a prolonged period of time," he quipped as he followed her into the small space and slid the door shut. Surveying the room, he pulled out his wand. "You know, the decor leaves much to be desired for sharing a drink with a lovely woman. Mind if I make an adjustment or two?"

  
Hermione blinked at him before raising a sardonic brow. "Whatever makes you comfortable is fine," she said with a casual shrug, while glancing around. Malfoy's room was very similar to hers, presentation clutter aside. They had the same wallpaper and mahogany panelling, furniture and carpeting; the only differences she could spot were the small calendar diary and polished wooden valet case on the nightstand. Either he was meticulous in how he kept his personal space, or he had a fastidious steward.

  
"There," Malfoy said, interrupting her perusal, "that is much better."

  
She turned to find him standing by a small loveseat and coffee table, looking very pleased with himself.

  
"Cozy," she commented, moving to sit down.

  
"Quite," Malfoy agreed as he retrieved a bottle of wine from his trunk and cast a cooling charm on it. After pouring their drinks, he brought them over and sat beside her, handing her a glass.

  
"Thank you, Malfoy," she said, enjoying the way his fingers brushed against hers.

  
Grey eyes sought brown, capturing them in a steady gaze. "You're welcome. . . Hermione."

  
Blushing at the intensity of his gaze, and strangely pleased with how her name sounded coming from his lips, she looked away and lifted her goblet to her lips.

  
"Hold up," he said, reaching up to stay her hand. "It's bad luck to drink before making a toast."

  
"I never took you for the superstitious type, Draco," she said laughing.

  
Malfoy shrugged. "There's a lot about me you don't know," he replied.

  
"Touché," Hermione nodded. "To what shall we toast?"

  
"To chance meetings in strange places and the opportunity to get to know one another better?"

  
"Very well, to chance meetings then," she said, raising her glass to her lips once more and taking a sip of sweet white wine.

  
After a while, Hermione started to relax a bit more in his presence. As she slowly dropped her guard, she started to notice small things about him - the way his head tilted to the side when he was thinking carefully about what she was saying, the small lines around his eyes when he smiled, and the way his gaze strayed further from hers, lingering longer and longer over her features.

  
While Hermione enjoyed an appreciative glance or two, Draco's increasingly heated stare made her skin tingle with awareness at how closely he was sitting, just close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, but not so close that they were touching. It was maddening.

  
Squirming from the intensity, she drew her knees up and turned to face him, tucking her feet by her left hip. "You're staring." At his nod, she asked, "Why?"

  
Draco looked away finally, leaning over to the coffee table and setting his glass down. Reaching over, he plucked her drink from her hand to place it beside his before turning back to face her.

  
"If you must know," he began, leaning in closer, and lowering his voice to a husky whisper, "I was staring to keep myself from doing something like this." One of his hands slipped around the back of her neck, dragging her closer while he closed the distance, capturing her lips in a thorough kiss that set her skin ablaze with sensation.

  
Leaning forward into the kiss, she placed a hand on his chest for balance. Breaking away for air, she considered leaving but the scrape of nipping kisses along her jaw had her gasping, shifting closer so he could drag his lips down the column of her neck. Later she wouldn't recall how she ended up with her dress around her waist, and her limbs wrapped around Draco as he carried her across the room and laid her across his bed.

  
As he removed her clothing, lavishing tender attention on each patch of bared skin with his hands and mouth, she found she couldn't bring herself to care. Threading her fingers in his hair, she encouraged him with quiet moans, arching into his caresses with a level of trust and abandon that would have shocked her even a few hours before, but which felt natural and right. While helping him shed his clothes, Hermione surrendered herself to the moment - skin pressed against skin, lips and fingers teasing, hot puffs of breath, and tension coiling within her, building, waiting to be released.

  
When Draco finally entered her, gazes locked, hands entwined, she sighed. His answering groan drove her to swivel her hips against him, on his next thrust, again and again, until his control wavered and finally broke.  Releasing her hands, he lifted one of her legs high, resting it on his shoulder, changing the angle and the sensations amplified. Barely able to wriggle her hips, Hermione held onto his shoulders, gasping with every stroke, until he finally began stroking her clit with his fingers, and she came around him in a wave of shuddering bliss, leading him to his own release.

  
As they came down, he held her to him, and rolled so he lay on his back. Stroking his chest idly, she caught her breath.

  
"So," she said breathlessly, her curiosity getting the best of her, "where do we go from here?"

  
Chuckling, Draco kissed her temple. "Well, tomorrow is the scheduled overnight stop in Budapest. I was hoping to wine you and dine you there, then let you work on your presentation while I'm at my meeting in Bucharest, and then lounge around while you attend to your duties at the conference in Instanbul."

  
"That's not what I meant, and you know it," she said, swatting him playfully before leaning up to look him in the eyes.

  
"Anywhere we want," he told her earnestly, travel plans forgotten for the time being. "I'm willing to give things a shot, if you are."

   
"I think I'd like that," she said, stifling a yawn and cuddling into him, as he pulled the sheets up to cover them.  The gentle sway of the train car lulled her to sleep, to dream of fresh possibilities.

  

The End


End file.
